


Missing Connections

by Lonely_Malkavian



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bar Scene, Bisexual Castiel (Supernatural), Bisexual Dean Winchester, Drunk Dean, Eventual Smut, F/M, Heaven is Closed, Human Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Oral Sex, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-02-02 17:25:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12731010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonely_Malkavian/pseuds/Lonely_Malkavian
Summary: So Heaven's closed off, demons still hang around, Dean can't handle losing everyone. Ellen, Jo, John, Mary, Pam, Bobby, & now Cas. Dean can only drown his sorrows so far before he starts having regrets.I think the tags might give too much away though. We'll see.





	1. Whiskey Lullabies

**Author's Note:**

> No idea how long this is going to be. Hell, I'm not even sure why I started writing this.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At a bar in Arizona. Dean is pretty far from okay. And we meet Erin.

“Fuck this Sammy, I'm out. Don't wait up.” Dean grabbed his jacket and keys, slamming the hotel door behind him. He mumbled something under his breath as he pulled his jacket on. Dean swore no one would ever see him cry, especially Sam. He was supposed to be the strong one and watch out for his little brother; at least that's what John instilled in him. To him that was no problem. The problem was the difference in their personalities. Dean was John's perfect little soldier while Sam, Sammy left as soon as he could and was smart enough to make his way all the way to law school. Dean barely made it past high school. It was always book smarts versus street smarts between them.

Dean grabbed his cell phone out of his pocket, thumbing through the copious amounts of apps. Most of which he didn't even use. He opened the “Maps”, searching “Bars near me”, he wasn't feeling very picky as to where, just as long as they served whiskey til closing time. *”The Rendezvous, huh? Eh, why not.” No matter how loud he turned the radio up, it wouldn't make his thoughts any softer, it felt like it only made them more pronounced. His foot pressed down on the gas pedal a little harder as he felt his eyes start to water. John would be so disappointed if he saw this.

_Only little bitches cry Dean, remember that._

There was something about this hunt that crawled under his skin and not in a good way. Sure, it was just a bunch of demons and that was fine, that was easy. Once they got to the shitty hotel room, the thought swarmed his brain and it was all he could think of; It was just demons now, there were no more angels. Heaven was closed. Out of Order.

_There was no more Team Free Will. It was just him and Sammy ___

__They had both lost everyone they had ever loved. Dean was pretty sure if he began to write down every person they had ever lost, it would be a list longer than a contract from Crowley. Even Crowley was gone, he didn't know that could happen. He knew anything was possible in their line of work, but this was a whole new breed of _anything_._ _

__Dean pulled in to the run down parking lot of the bar. It looked more like a shack than a bar. In a weird way, it reminded him of Ellen, Ash...and Jo. Turning the ignition off, he decided he'd give Sam a call; he felt slightly guilty leaving like that. The line rang, and rang. Dean's face twisted, partially in anger, partially in worry. “C'mon Sammy...” he began tapping his foot._ _

__“Do you need me to pick you up already?” Rightfully so there was a tone of annoyance in Sam's voice, followed by a sigh._ _

__“No. I wanted to, you know” Dean rolled his eyes, he knew Sam knew what he was trying to say but he wanted to hear him say it. “God dammit Sammy, don't make me say it. I'm sorry okay? I shouldn't have left like that.” He heard Sam give a small laugh of satisfactory knowing he was right. “Oh, don't be so smug. Bitch.”_ _

__“Jerk.”_ _

__Dean pocketed the phone and got out of the car, examining the outside of the bar. It looked about as bad as he was feeling. He opened the door, seeing it wasn't too crowded but it wasn't empty either. A few couples and a few loners, and of course as it is with every bar, an old out of date jukebox playing “I Love Rock N' Roll” by Joan Jett._ _

___And I don't give a damn  
about my bad reputation._ _ _

__The last time he heard this song he was plastered and convinced he could sing along with it during karaoke night. He was wrong and Crowley was sure to tell him that over and over again, even after he sobered up. That asshole even had the nerve to record it. That was the only good thing about Smart Phones in Dean's eyes. It could capture moments he would never see again. It kept numbers he'd never hear from again, voicemails it hurt to listen to, and pictures that were so happy he couldn't look at them without crying. Some nights he wished he never brought Sam back into this, he wished he would have left John when he had the chance, as heartless as that sounds. Dean had so many chances to be happy, to have a different life, and he was too blind by what John was telling him to realize there had been so many chances and he took none of them. He always took shotgun in the Impala and a Colt M1911A1 at his side._ _

__Dean pulled out a stool at the very end of the bar, signaling to the bartender. She came over, in her low cut white shirt, with a black bra underneath and a black skirt short enough that if she bent over, he could tell what her underwear looked like. Her long blonde hair pulled back into a neat pony tail with a necklace filled with charms settled in between her breasts. “What can I get you?” She leaned forward to Dean, her cleavage almost spilling out of her shirt. He could smell her perfume, she smelled like vanilla and strawberries. A strand of her hair escaped her pony tail and fell forward. She tucked it behind her ear. She smiled coyly when she noticed where Dean's eyes were focused. He cleared his throat and looked back up to her face._ _

___Those eyes. So blue. Fuck._ _ _

__Dean gave her his most charming smile. “I'll just have two shots of whiskey for now.”_ _

__“For now? Did you just go through a break up or something? No one says 'whiskey' and 'for now' in the same sentence unless they're trying to forget something.” She began pouring into the shot glasses. She placed the glasses on the bar, leaning over again placing her head on her head in an inquisitive position._ _

__“A break up would have been a blessing.” He answered in a monotone. He downed the first shot and noticed she was still there, looking eye to eye with him. He placed the empty glass back down and picked the other one up. “Look...” he looked for a name tag “Erin...you're pretty and any other night, I'd beg you to let me make you feel good.” He raised an eyebrow, hoping she knew what he meant. She seemed offended by his response. “I'm just trying to forget, remember?”_ _

__This seemed to draw her back in, looking a little less venomous now. “Can't say I understand, but,” holding up the bottle of whiskey “I do provide temporary solutions to many problems.”_ _

__Dean held up a now empty shot glass. "That you do Erin, that you do."_ _


	2. Closing Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Time for you to go home, but you can't stay here."
> 
> Drunk Dean has sexy time with the pretty bartender lady.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's adult content in this chapter; pretty much the majority of the chapter. I tried to keep it all "implied" so I wouldn't have to M rate it.

A few more shots down and Dean was feeling better than he had been. He hadn't forgotten his problems but they felt much farther away than they had earlier. “I'm convinced you're a Siren, Erin.” He slurred.

“Hm, in this day and age, you never know.” She teased. Dean had drank the majority of the bottle at this point and was beginning to feel a little frisky. He looked at his watch and he could barely tell the time. “So...” He looked Erin up and down, looking at her waist like he had x-ray vision. “what time do you get off?”

“That's really what you're going with?” She tried to sound offended as she was smiling. “I was supposed to get outta' here about an hour ago but you were so enthralling, I had to try my luck.”

The world was starting to spin, Dean smiled. When the world was spinning, his emotions couldn't catch up to his brain. He finished his final shot, which he had lost count of. He placed the money down for the drinks and a decent tip. “That the only tip you're giving me?” 

“That's up to you.” He held up his keys. She shifted her hips to the side, placing a hand under her chin like she was contemplating his offer. “It's roomy.” He scooted back on the stool and slowly began walking towards the door. She untied her apron, following him. He held the door open; he may be drunk but he's still a gentleman. 

“This one yours? The black one?”

**~**

“Uh, yeah.” He managed to mumble out. He opened the back door and couldn't help but let his eyes linger on her thighs as she climbed into the back seat. They were smooth and he couldn't wait to touch them, to spread them apart. Erin slid into the back seat, giving him the bedroom eyes look with those strikingly blue eyes. His brain flashed a memory of the color but he couldn't remember where from. 

“You coming?” Erin propped herself up on her elbows. Dean shook his head as if doing so would make the memory vanish. 

“Y-yeah.” His words slurred a little. “-m comin'.” He crawled in, his foot catching the front seat before closing the door.

Erin's skin was soft as he ran his hand up, slowly taking off her shirt. He kissed her neck, she began to tilt her head to the side. Her scent clouded his brain, it felt like it was surrounded in a warm fog. His hand wrapped around her back, pawing at the clasp on the bra. In a sober state it would have taken two seconds, this however was taking more around 5 or 6 seconds. She had a little bit of mercy on him and unbuttoned his pants, then helped him unclasp her bra. “Better?” She said in a coy voice. He nodded, words weren't working. 

His kisses began to travel downward, running his hands over her naked breasts with a soft squeeze, feeling her arch up to meet him. He made his way down to her belly button. “S'okay?” He tried to ask. 

She whispered a small “mhmm” as he continued downward, lifting her short skirt up. He heard that soft, familiar gasp that he liked hearing women make. Dean felt her hands slide down his back, grabbing the bottom of his shirt, pulling it upwards and off. “Nice tattoo.” rubbing her hand over his outer bicep. It made him stop for a second.

“Scar.” He left it as a plain statement not wanting to divulge into the story of who, where, and why it was there. She removed her hand and toyed with his hair. Dean slid his fingers in between the sides of her lacy underwear, slowly pulling them down, kissing where they once were. In the silence there was the sound of a zipper being pulled down. He continued kissing and licking as he used one hand to pull his pants down, keeping the other on one of her breasts. He felt her fingers slide through his hair, gripping ever so slightly whenever he moved his tongue. He heard her moan as her legs spread farther apart. He kissed his way back up, leaving one hand in between her legs. 

Dean felt her skin against his, slowly heating up. He noticed the windows starting to fog up and was pretty sure the car would start rocking soon. Kissing her neck, he felt her hips moving up and down pacing with his fingers. He knew for sure in a few more strokes, she would be begging to be fucked. He was starting to perspire. He ran his thumb up and down, still keeping his fingers in motion, while kissing on her neck. Her breathing picked up and he could feel her breasts moving with every breath. Dean could see her biting her bottom lip, not sure if she was afraid to moan or afraid to say something. Time to guess which one and hope he was right. “Want me to do somethin' else?” Surprised he managed the question as well as he did. 

She nodded without second. “So...” he slowed his movements down but kept going. “what do _you_ want me to do?” 

“I want your pants all the way off.” She wrapped her legs loosely around his waist. She may be flirty but was still too shy to say what she really wanted when she wasn't the one in charge. It was more than obvious to Dean what she wanted. He pulled her towards him.

“Comfortable?” She felt the real leather on her bare skin.

“Yeah, I'm good.”

“Good. Stay.” He jokingly commanded as he reached over the front seat. Erin heard him fumbling around, finally reappearing. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” He held up the square packaging. As he pulled himself out, he was trying his best to keep her stimulated, and still in the mood for this. Dean inched closer, slightly feeling her warmth. He put his hands on her hips and slowly lifted her up and closer to him, careful to not hit her head on the roof. He found his rhythm. Dean couldn't lie, Erin was good, damn good. For a split second he felt bad for this one night stand. He felt her squeeze onto him tighter. He put his lips next to her ear and in his softest voice; “Cum for me Erin.” 

It was like he was a magician. She collapsed into him, allowing him the few more thrusts that he needed. “Fuck, that was great. You should come around here more often, uh, I don't think I caught your name before this...”

“I'm Dean.”


	3. Memories meet reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you get attached to someone you meet once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little short. I've been having a lot of brain fog.

Pulling up her underwear and pulling down her skirt, she watched Dean tilt back and forth as he buckled his pants. “You know, I have a small place above the bar, you really should sleep off your forgetfulness.” Dean looked up, realizing the world was still spinning.

“s'prolly a good idea.” He nodded his head as he put his shoes on the wrong feet. He watched Erin look into the rear view mirror to make sure her make up wasn't smudged. She ran her ring finger below her bottom lip to straighten out her lipstick. Memories invaded his head again.

_How important is lipstick to you, Dean?_

“It's not.” He drunkenly mumbled to himself.

“Huh?” Erin turned her head to look at him, pulling her hair back into a pony tail. He tried to speak but he felt his stomach turn into knots, willing himself not to vomit. He was pretty sure he shook his head 'no'. His eyes squinted like he was trying to put the world into focus, all he could see was her eyes looking him up and down. “Follow.” She slid out and started walking to the front door of the bar, offering her hand. He reached for it then realized his depth perception was off when he noticed his hand was wrapped around her small wrist. “Yeah, you need to sleep this off. Real bad.”

Dean trailed behind her as she closed the bar and assisted him up a small flight of stairs. “Mmm...you smell good Erin.”

“At least you remember my name.” She remarked as she guided him to a well worn couch. “It's not exactly the Hyatt, but by the looks of you, I'm going to guess you've had worse.” He grumbled like a spoiled child as she pulled out spare blankets. Dean flopped face down on the couch. Erin rolled her eyes and pulled off his shoes and covered him up. “You're lucky you're magical in the sack.” She said to herself, sighing as he drifted off into a deep, drunken, slumber.

Dean heard his name being called softly. He couldn't place who it was as his brain sluggishly started bringing him back to reality. “Go 'way Cas...one more hour.” He shoved his hand into the air, batting away someone who wasn't there. The voice was coming more into focus as he opened one eye, still not moving his head.

“I'm no 'Cas', whoever she is, but it's noon and I need to get to work.” Erin was tucking in her light purple shirt into another short black skirt, just an inch or so longer than last nights. Dean pushed himself up with one hand, rubbing the side of his face with the other, wiping away the drool.

“My bad. Didn't realize where I was.” He started lacing up his boots. “Thanks for letting me crash, and not stealing my phone.” 

“That thing kept going off all night. I was tempted to break it.” She shouted from the bathroom as she applied her lipstick. “Thought about smashing it but you kept saying 'Sammy' in your sleep every time it rang so...” She walked out, grabbing her purse “figured it might be someone important.”

Dean's head finally cleared. He had gotten wasted, slept with a pretty girl, and passed out on her couch. _Good job, Dean._ “Really appreciate that.” So many missed calls and just as many voicemails. He knew what they were going to say, he didn't want to listen; he didn't need to be reminded of how shitty he was acting. Now the regret was seeping in. His head started pounding. Dean could hear Erin's heels clacking on the floor as she paced about, getting ready for her day. It felt like she was stomping in his ear. He brought his fingers up to his temples, rubbing clockwise. Instead of the world spinning, it was pounding; every pin drop sounded like standing next to a guitar amp. The clacking stopped.

“Here.” She one hand opened, with a glass of water in the other. “Aspirin, I swear. If I wanted to drug you, I'm sure you'd take it willingly.” Giving her a half smile, he took the aspirin from her hand and downed it. “I think you have somewhere to be.” 

“What, I don't at least get cab fare?” He smirked, straightening out his jacket.

“I know you have a car. I've even seen it.” With her purse over her shoulder, she opened the door, pushing him out with a light, playful, nudge.

“All right, all right.” He began taking the stairs down to the entrance, hoping to duck out before anyone else came in. Turning back at Erin tying her apron on for the night, he gave her a sly wink before walking out to his car.

Driving back to the motel, he expected to get the standard lecture from Sam about how he was being reckless and with everything that was going on, he wasn't dealing with it properly. What was the proper way to deal with losing almost everyone that you love? 

Losing Castiel was the last straw for him. To him, it felt like no one was listening to him. Not about how he felt, not about what he wanted. He wasn't one to pour his feelings out but that didn't mean he didn't have them. There was no handbook on how to cope with starting, then trying to prevent the Apocalypse, your best friend being an actual angel, losing him because of said Apocalypse, being a demon and hanging out with the King of Hell for a good while, and that was just scratching the surface of what he had to deal with. There were support groups for almost everything in this world, but none for even one of the things he was going through. 

_At least I have Sammy._

The neon sign was flashing it's **VACANCY** in bright blue as he pulled into the parking lot, pulling out his keys. Squeezing his eyes shut as he turned the key, bracing for the barrage of Sam's questions and criticisms.

“Glad to see you back in one piece.” This was not what he expected to be the first thing to hear as he walked in. Dean opened his eyes to see Sam sitting at the small table on his laptop, scanning local articles for any new jobs. There were a few small articles about strange things but they were mostly printed in gossip rags with no merit to their name. “Haven't found very many jobs.” Sam continued as though nothing had changed.

“Surprising. I guess a demon or two took notes on what was going on topside and now every monster under the bed has taken a vacation.”

Sam looked up from his laptop. “Some dive bar, not far from here, found a girl without a heart. Werewolf maybe? Article says it's called “The Rendezvous.”

Dean froze in place. “Does it have her picture?” He almost didn't want an answer to the question, or that he saw a different picture of a different girl.


	4. Heart to heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean goes back to the bar, seeing Erin in a whole different way.  
> Nothing ever goes Dean's way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some hints and psychological abuse and whatnot. Nothing major.

Dean could hear his heartbeat in his ears, his stomach churning when he saw the neatly pinned up blonde hair and highly manicured lipstick still the same shape and shade it was when he left her this morning. He felt his eyes getting wet. 

_Why are you getting so emotional? You barely even knew her._

“She was a nice girl...” Dean whispered 

“Huh?” Sam looked up at his brother, seeing his expression shift from his neutrality to something between sadness and shock.

“I didn't say anything.” He turned his back to Sam and headed to the bathroom. “I need a shower before we...head out.” He had trouble stammering out the last part of his sentence. Shaking his head as if he were to shake off the memory of her skin tracing his, the way her words wormed their way into his ears, and her smile went ear to ear when she realized she had her hooks sunk into him, in a good way. A way he hadn't felt in a long time.

He shed his clothes as the water began warming up. Stepping in he felt the steam swirl around him, the water pressure was harder than he expected, pelting his shoulders. He rubbed his temples clockwise. Part of him wanted to collapse in the shower and never come out. The water began to run cold, that was a sign that it was time to get out. He shook his head like a wet dog, wrapping the towel around his hips, sagging a little bit below his V taper. He barely cracked the bathroom door to let the steam out. The sudden change in air temperature ran goosebumps up his arms. Opening the door the rest of the way the steam billowed out. Sam was still staring at the screen with the picture of Erin pinned in the corner. He shuddered at he shuffled through his bag finding a clean suit.

“Give me 15 and we'll get going.” Dean muttered turning his head towards Sam. Sam have a questioning look. “Look, I'm tired. I need at least 4 hours.” Sam slid the laptop into his bag, gathering his notebooks and fake Ids. “Who are we today?” As he buttoned up his shirt.

Sam flipped open two randomly picked badges. “Would you like to be Richards or Harrison?” 

“Hmm...I feel like if I could, I'd be Richards right now?”

“Is there something we need to talk about?” Sam let the question linger, waiting for an answer without pushing the subject.

“Never.” Dean's response was deadpan. Sam sighed, shrugged, and headed out to the car.

“I'll be waiting.” Opening the door the light hit Dean's eye harder than he expected, reminding him that it hadn't been that long since he was actually with Erin, holding her, smiling at her smile. He gave a small nod despite Sam already being out the door and probably in the car. 

Dean felt his stomach getting sour, running to the bathroom and throwing up whatever contents were in his stomach which was mostly alcohol so it burned like hell. Standing as his stomach couldn't empty anything else, he wiped his mouth and went to the sink to brush his teeth. He couldn't bring himself to look at his reflection. He was starting to feel emotions he would never admit to. He managed to face the mirror and for a split second he could swear he saw those familiar eyes. He turned around in place. “Cas?” There was no one there, no one to answer and there was certainly no Castiel. He felt bile coming up his throat again. He spit out a small bit and rinsed out his mouth.

_Stop being such a pansy. Grow up and be a man!_

“I'm no pansy!” He snapped to a voice that was only in his head. John would be so disappointed if he saw Dean like this. He raised Dean to be better than a sobbing, puking, missing a _man_ , mess. He raised Dean to be a soldier, a hunter. A man. He clenched his teeth at the anger boiling up in him, trying not to destroy everything around him. He settled for breaking the mirror. He pulled his fist back as it stung and bled a tiny bit. Rinsing it off so Sam wouldn't question him, he patted it dry and grabbed his gun off the nightstand, locking the door behind him.

Sam glanced over at Dean's knuckles when Dean put the car into reverse. He let out a soft sigh and looked back down at his laptop, skimming over the article. “So get this.” Sam started, looking over at Dean who was looking more damaged than usual. “we, uh, might have a lead on where this werewolf might be hiding out.”

“Good.”

Sam was used to Dean not being talkative but this was worse than normal. Something was different in him. Sam closed his laptop. “Dean,” he started out but was shot with the glare of death from Dean. “I'm your brother, if there's something bothering you, it's my job to listen.”

“Not now Sammy. I'm tired.”

“You've said that a few times now. This looks like a different kind of tired. Why won't you tell me what's wrong?” Sam's face almost hit the dashboard as Dean slammed on the brakes as they pulled into the parking lot of The Rendezvous.

“You really wanna' know what's wrong? I've lost everyone Sammy. **Everyone.** Every person I meet, every person I feel something for, is gone. I'm afraid I'm going to lose you soon. You're the only one I have left. I'm toxic. I'm damaged. I'm tired.” He took in a deep breath before he continued, it all came pouring out. 

“I keep hearing dad's voice in my head, and it's not nice, 'good job son' that I'm hearing. I'm hearing how much of a failure I am. I couldn't save anyone, no matter how hard I tried. They've all died because of me. _I_ was the one that let Jo come along and look what happened to her. Hell hounds and explosions isn't an easy painless death. Pam is dead because I dared to question how the hell I got out of hell instead of just accepting that I got to come back to you.” His words were starting to get louder and angrier. “ **Bobby** was killed because I made a shitty deal and would not accept my fate.” Dean took a deep breath, gathering his emotions and locking them away as he turned the engine off.

Sam didn't say a word. His brother was in a pain that he couldn't help, all he could do was make sure Dean didn't self-destruct.

The bell dinged as they walked into the bar. It looked exactly the same as it did a few hours ago, except this time it was lined off with yellow **DO NOT CROSS** caution tape. Dean buttoned up his suit jacket, giving his hands something to do as they stepped closer. He found the Sheriff and showed her his FBI badge. “I'm agent Richards, this is my partner agent Harrison, we're from the FBI. We heard about the death here.”

“Sheriff Witt.” She offered her hand, shaking Dean's hand. “This one isn't pretty. The guy who did this has to be a monster, no one with a soul could do this.” She shook her head, looking away from the crime scene. “I'd say it was an animal attack but, there's hardly any wildlife close to here.” Dean heard the click of a stretcher and looked over Witt's shoulder, seeing the black body bag, with Erin inside. 

“Any leads you can give us? Forensics?” Sam stepped up to question, noticing the expression on Dean's face.

“Aside from a missing heart, not really. The bar had cameras installed, but we haven't gained access to them yet so, we're not sure what's there. I don't even want to think about what he did to her.” 

Dean ducked under the tape and stood next to the stool he sat in last night. He swore he could still smell Erin's strawberry vanilla scent. Looking down at where her lifeless body was, he noticed a footprint in the blood. “Agent!” He called for Sam.

Sam pulled out his laptop connecting to the bar's wifi, hoping he could catch something on the camera's before they got cut. Sam stood next to Dean looking down at the specks of blood. “Looks like she fought back.” He mentioned, waiting for the connection.

“She was a bit of a spit fire.” Dean let it slip. “I mean, seems like she was.”

Sam figured out why this hunt was so hard for Dean. He met her last night and wasn't ready to confess to it, if he will at all. Sam leaned into Dean. Sam tilted the laptop away from Dean's view just in case something popped up that might make things worse. He finally got ahold of the footage of last night and early this morning, before the police did and possibly see Dean on the footage. Of course he saw Dean sitting at the bar, talking to the pretty blonde girl, downing shot after shot. They eventually wandered out of frame, then an hour or so later, Dean came stumbling back in, following Pretty Blonde Girl up a flight of stairs that disappeared again. Fast forwarding to watching Dean leave, fast forwarding some more, nothing but Pretty Blonde Girl setting up the bar for the night. A man eventually wandered in with a friend with him. The first guy, tall, maybe just an inch or so shorter than Sam, leaned against the bar chatting her up as the second guy wandered out of frame. Sam zoomed in on the guy at the bar, it was a little more blurry but he could see the hands on the bar starting to shift, and that's when the camera's cut.

“There's a warehouse near here that some other hunters have suggested checking out.” Closing his laptop, he tried to keep it low so Witt wouldn't wonder what they were talking about. 

“Let's go.” Dean turned and headed to the door, waving at Witt before leaving.


	5. Breaking Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The case sounds easy enough but something goes seriously wrong. One of the boys gets injured in an unexpected way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning. I've marked it with (TW starting) and (TW end). I don't really want to say what it is, might ruin the punch. If you really want to know what the TW is, I'll list it at the bottom notes.

The drive to this mysterious warehouse was even more awkward than the ride to the bar. Sam let himself silently connect the dots. That was the bar that Dean went to last night, that girl was the reason he disappeared for an hour or so, then came back in, and didn't get back to their shitty motel room until the next afternoon. Dean spent time with her, and they certainly weren't playing card poker in his car.

“Was she nice?” Sam mumbled knowing the reaction he would get. Dean had never raised a hand to him unless he needed some since slapped into him. He was bracing himself for being lunged forward into the dashboard, there were no airbags or cushions to protect Sam from the sudden braking he was expecting.

It didn't happen. The speed remained the same. The only thing that changed was Dean's eyes. There are some things that we, as humans, cannot control no matter how hard we try. Dean's pupils looked like they didn't even exist, there was just a circle full of green, slowly getting glassy. Sam focused in on Dean's face as it scrunched up when he took a deep breath in, it looked like it was painful and his hands were twisting around the steering wheel. “I'm sorry Dean. I shouldn't have...”

Dean lifted his hand up, level with Sam's face without pushing it into his face. “Don't apologize Sammy.” Dean's tone was emotionless. This wasn't grumpy Dean or angry Dean, this was broken heart, sad Dean. “I met Er...” he couldn't bring himself to say her name. “I met the blonde girl at the bar last night. We spent the night together. She was nice. She was...something new, Sam.”

There was no “y” at the end of Dean's sentence when the question was answered. For Sam, that almost hurt. It felt like the equivalent of calling your parent by their first name as some sort of teenage rebellion that neither of them ever had the chance to have. If Dean wasn't driving, Sam would attempt to give his brother a hug, despite knowing that Dean would literally push him away from it. Sam looked down at his lap and scrolled through the playlists in his iPod. Taking one earbud out and putting it into Dean's ear and pressing play. Sam gave a partial smile as he saw his brother's eyes dry up and gave the similar small, warm smile.

“I never should have told you about this song. You're using it against me. Tell anyone else and I'm going to draw dicks on your face in permanent marker while you're asleep.” Dean handed the ear bud back to Sam as he felt the gravel under the tires and a decent size warehouse come into view. Dean shut off the head lights and pulled to the side of the warehouse in a poor attempt to hide it, even though the rumble of the engine probably gave them away. “Maybe the nest will only be a few double digits this time.” Dean huffed as released the original magazine from his the gun at his side, loading a 7 silver bullets magazine in it's place. Shuffling through a small rucksack in the backseat, he pulled out an extra magazine. Dean watched Sam mimic his actions, just loading up a Jackhammer shotgun. “Shotgun, really? When did you grow the balls for up close and personal?”

“By proxy revenge, I guess.” Sam didn't look up from sliding the shells. “Plus, if it's a big nest, 10 shells before I need a reload makes me a little more comfortable. You're the better marksman, Dean. Don't rub it in.” Adding the last sentence as he could already hear Dean's snarky remark.

*

Gun's already aimed, not sure what to expect as they walked in. There was silence, and in the Hunter's world, silence was bad. They both noticed the hammock style beds hung throughout the area; specks of blood on one of the large steel shelves, some of it still fresh. Dean shook his head, trying to tell the image of Erin to get out of his head.

_In the middle of a hunt and you're thinking about a whore._

The voice whispered in his head, deep but teasing, almost like a playground bully if he was 5 years old again. “She's not a whore.” Dean whispered, almost unable to stop the response but having enough sense to whisper it. 

There was the sound of boots against the concrete, like whoever was wearing them was trying to make the sound intentionally. Sam's face twisted as he saw the man's face as the boots came out from behind one of the shelves full of jars filled with a deep red, thick, liquid. The Winchesters knew blood when they saw it. The man licked his lips, finally speaking in a thick Southern accent.

( **TW right here** )

“Well, well. I had your scent miles away boy.” The irises changed and the pupils disappeared into the dark yellow marble sized eyes as the overhead lights swayed back and forth, like a movie style interrogation. Putting his nose in the air, sniffing like a blood hound. “Mmm, I can smell that lovely little blonde thing on you.” Dean felt Sam's back against his, giving him a silent reassurance; brothers don't need words to communicate pain, no matter what kind. “She fought almost as good as she felt. She could scream 'no' all she wanted, it wasn't gonna' keep her panties on.” 

Sam felt Dean's shoulder's tense up and he didn't need to be face to face to know what was about to happen. “Dean...” Sam whispered. “after this bang, the rest are going to come running, be ready for that.” Dean could count on one hand the amount of times Sam has ever supported Dean being violent or angry, and the few times he did, the anger was unstoppable. 

“What did you say, you fucking scum?” Dean's eye twitched as he raised his gun with whoever this thing is. Dean's finger was on the trigger, just waiting to squeeze. 

_You can't even pull the trigger on a monster, pansy!_

Now he had to fight his head and his head. He gritted his teeth, stepping closer to get a better look at the thing that didn't deserve to breathe.

The light stopped swinging as Dean reached up to stop it, forcing it forward to the werewolf who was daring to smile. Sam felt a yanking feeling at his heart and he didn't even know the girl. Sam was pretty sure this feeling was his heart breaking for Dean's heart being broken all over again.

The werewolf had some intelligence to step back as the light shined onto him, slightly blinding him from the gun being pointed at his face. “I just, for the life of me, could not decide.” There was a pause as Sam noticed him grabbing a jar from the shelf next to him, the one stacked with jars of non-labeled blood, which was weird, even for werewolves. Holding the the jar up like the skull being held like he was about to recite Hamlet. The werewolf gave a twisted sound of pleasure. “what part of her felt better, her heart...” he mockingly held the jar out to Dean. “or her pussy, it's a tough call, what do y--”

**BANG**  
**BANG**  
**BANG**  
**BANG**  
**BANG**  
**BANG**

Dean started to shake. He had felt many emotions. The hurt of loss. The anger of death. The guilt of killing. The shame of not being good enough. Dean crumpled like a broken accordion, not even trying to hide the fact that he was crying. Sam knelt next to him, wrapping his arms around his brother, holding him tight. Dean felt his tears soaking up Sam's shirt. “I...Sammy...” his voice cracked, becoming high pitched like before puberty. Sam pulled his brother closer, feeling his strong brother, pale and shaking in shock. “I should have let him rip my heart out, it would have hurt less, and I'd finally be dead for good.” Dean choked between his words that never reached above a whisper. At those words Sam slowly took the gun from Dean's hand, he had to save Dean from himself for a change.

( **TW ended** )

*  
Dean still buried in his brother's shirt covering it in tears, snot, and muffled screams. The muffled screams turned into just mumbling words that Sam couldn't decipher. Dean wasn't a prayer and the only other language he knew was 9th grade Spanish. Sam felt cold as he held Dean up by the shoulders. Dean refused to look up, he wouldn't even open his eyes. “Dean?” Sam tried to bring his brother's mind back to Earth before something bad did happen. “We...we need to get out of here.” Lifting his brother up, standing to carry him like a child. Finally up on his feet, Sam remembered lifting the dead weight of his brother was harder than he remembered. “Man, I'm so putting you on a diet.” Sam grumbled as he turned his back, heading towards the door. He was not ready to take on a nest by himself. 

Sam took two steps before he had to shift his weight to adjust to the extra, shaking, crying, weight he was carrying. He was fighting back all he could to not join his brother in his just breaking down and giving up. Finding his stride again, he tried to focus in on what Dean was trying to say.

There was a sudden flash of light, brighter than the sun. A white, blinding light bringing him to his knees, still managing to hold his brother tight. There was a shadow over them, like whatever it was, was trying to protect them from a nuclear bomb.

“Vos es iam tutum.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Implied rape, language relating to such.
> 
> Translation: You're safe now.


End file.
